A New Path: Jonny Dawson's story
by Moment For Life
Summary: The story of seventeen year old Jonny Dawson, finding out the truth.


**"The beggarly question of parentage-what is it, after all? What does it matter, when you come to think of it, whether a child is yours by blood or not? All the little ones of our time are collectively the children of us adults of the time, and entitled to our general care. That excessive regard of parents for their own children, and their dislike of other people's, is, like class-feeling, patriotism, save-your-own-soul-ism, and other virtues, a mean exclusiveness at bottom."  
― Thomas Hardy, _Jude the Obscure_**

**Summer 1930**

Jon Dawson-Forbe ignored the shouts of his mother as he made his way to the old oak tree. The place where he had found peace for as long as he could remember. He stormed, feeling the wind blow through his long sandy blonde hair. His freckles were evident due to the sun on his tanned skin and his eyes were a piercing blue. Those eyes which sixteen year old Jennifer Harrison had fallen for when they were children and there she was waiting for him by their tree.

She wore a baby blue dress, her almost black hair twisted into a pretty bun. Her gorgeous green eyes were full of concern and she held her hand out to him and he almost ran to touch her.

''Jonny?'' She knew something was wrong. She knew his face better than anyone. They had met as three year olds chasing each other silly promising to be lifelong friends but since they had shared their first kiss two years previous they both knew it was love. He had held her as she cried, wiped away her tears and shown her what true happiness was and she was about to do the same for him.

''I'm adopted, Jenny. Tom and Hannah...they...'' He was about to continue when he lost the ability to speak. ''They just told me...they aren't my real parents.''

He fell into her arms, shock running through his body. For seventeen years they had lied to him. The father he had looked up to and who had played ball with him as a child was in fact not any relation at all.

''Oh Jonny.'' She held him close and they collapsed onto the floor beneath the tree which they had so carefully carved their names into the previous summer as they had first exchanged those three precious words.

''My mother...they don't know who she was.'' He pulled away, pain etched on his face and grabbing at his heart. He pulled out an envelope, he assumed it was once white but was now almost grey. ''She left me this.''

Their eyes met and without words he knew what he had to do. He tore at the envelope, nausea rose in them both. Jenny held him close; she too was just as surprised. He hesitated to open the envelope. He glanced to her for guidance.

''Open it, Jonny. You deserve to know where you come from.''

He nodded, his shaking fingers struggling to open the paper. Several photographs fell out but he refused to look at them, he needed to know who his real family were to start with, he needed to know everything. He pulled out a piece of crumpled paper. The handwriting was beautiful, like the writing of a true lady. He read aloud:

_My dearest Jonny,_

_I hope you know that as I write this you move within me. I touch your hand as you stretch inside my tummy and you wriggle tremendously at the sound of my voice. I am your mother Miss Rose Dawson. I love you so much, I never understood love until I realised I was carrying you. I sit here writing this saddened of the knowledge that I will never see you as a grown man. I see you tall and handsome with your father's features and gentle manner._

_Your father's name was Jack Dawson. He died in the Titanic disaster in April of last year. We were together just once before he was cruelly taken from me. He taught me everything I know. That life is precious, my son. Make life count, your father would say and I too have learned to live by those words. He and I spoke of many things during our time together mostly of his hometown of Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. He grew up on a farm in Wisconsin and, when his parents died, he left home at fifteen. Jack was just twenty when I met him and I was just barely seventeen. We were in love, deeply, and we made it through a lot of things together. But he was ripped away from me, even before I knew I was pregnant with you. I think about him every day. He and I were not married. But I told everyone I had been. No one, but you and I and Jack, need know what happened. Your father had the same eyes you do now, that majestic blue. And he was built lithe and strong, with soft blond hair. Jack was a wonderful person and I know that soon we will be together._

_My name was Rose Dewitt Bukater, I grew up in Philadelphia. I was engaged to a very rich man by the name of Hockley who I left to be with your father. I learned to give up everything for the love of one man I barely knew. My heart beats for him every day and I long for you to meet us but I know that will never happen._

_I have such hopes for you my boy and know that when the day comes for you to read this your father and I will be looking down proudly on you. I hope you find the girls of your dreams marry and become a brilliant father one day._

_Enclosed are photographs of myself and my birth certificate. _

_Please know that Forbe's will look out for you. I looked over them very carefully. Also, please know how much I love you so very much. _

_Your mother,_

_Rose Dawson._

He folded the paper back, following the creases it had left for seventeen years. He could feel his hands shaking after finally knowing the truth. He was an orphan.

''She's dead, Jenny.''

She held his head as he came to terms with this newfound information which left a huge hole in his heart. Jennifer touched his face, that simple touch which melted his soul. She stroked her delicate fingers across his cheek comforting him more than she knew. Her eyes brimmed with tears witnessing the pain and confusion which registered on his face. She loved him so much, his pain was also hers. She stroked his face as the letter fell from his hand. Trembling, he reached out for the photos which were enclosed within the envelope. One was small, a portrait. A woman whose beauty was undeniable, a face which triggered something deep inside. She had long curled hair; her lips were full like his own. The only features he recognised in himself. The rest he assumed belonged to his father. Her eyes were bright and large.

''Jonny, she was lovely.'' He raised his hand to his face. Jenny took the picture from his hands as he picked up another. She still had so many questions which Jonny seemed to have missed but she wouldn't mention them now knowing just how hard this was for him.

The next picture was worn away at the edges. It was a picture which spoke a thousand words. There he was as a tiny baby in his mother's arms, she appeared so weak and frail and so much older than her seventeen years. Anger was still evident in his eyes, he still had no answers. How did she die?

''I need to know what happened.''

''But how will you find out.''

He shook his head, he collected the pictures back together and placed them back into the envelope. He tucked it into his shirt pocket before he got to his feet, pulling his love with him. He saw the love and concern in her eyes.

''I don't know but I have to try.'' Jen touched his chest, her own hands not so steady.

''I know you do, I just cannot bear to see you hurt.'' She melted his heart with her beauty and innocence. The way she looked at him with the love so obvious that even he could see it. ''But I know you cannot suffer by not knowing.''

He touched her hair, admiring the way it shone in the sun. He had never felt as though he didn't belong until this moment. This day had started out like any other that was until his parents had sat him down at the table where they had ate breakfast as a family for so long every morning when they had broke the news to him.

''There is no easy way to say this.'' They had said. Thrusting a crumpled letter into his hands. The letter which had not fully explained everything. At this moment in time, the only clear thing in his life was Jenny. When it was cloudy, she kept him focused and at this moment her support didn't falter.

''She was our age when she gave birth, Jonny. She was in love with a man who died. She must have been so frightened.''

The words shot through Jon like a thunderbolt. He hadn't considered how it would have affected Rose. The thought of Jenny having their child so young and alone was unthinkable. He pulled her closer to him as though if he let go, it would be forever.

''I need to find out what happened to her. She must have known she would die. The letter says so.'' A tear came down his face, the reality of the day caving in around him. He then heard his father call his name, the way he always did when playtime was over. As children he and Jenny would sneak off to the tree to sit and chat. He would wind her up and pull her pigtails as she was so beautiful and so prim and proper. She hated having a dirty dress, he would catch as many toads as he could to scare her silly and as they grew older and more in love, he would hold her hand, kiss away her fears and promising without a waiver of a doubt that once she turned eighteen he would marry her right away.

His father's call was louder and he knew he had to go. ''I must go.'' He spoke with a heavy heart. He hated leaving her but he knew he must get some much needed answers.

''Will I see you this evening?'' Her eyes watered with tears.

''Of course. At sunset by the tree.'' He stoked her curls, feeling her move closer to his body. Their eyes met and they both felt that beautiful connection which you only have with someone you deeply love.

''I love you darling.'' He whispered before leaning forward to kiss her. Their lips grazed. It was a sweet kiss. One they both felt shivers from and with each kiss they fell for each other more.


End file.
